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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24094789">Oblivion</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/followthefreedomtrail/pseuds/followthefreedomtrail'>followthefreedomtrail</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>All Roads Lead to You [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fallout 4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Banter, F/M, Read at Your Own Risk, Role Models, Self-Loathing, Spoilers for Cruel World!, commitment issues, gratuitous use of the f word, reluctant bromance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 23:02:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,446</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24094789</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/followthefreedomtrail/pseuds/followthefreedomtrail</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Snippets from future Cruel World chapters that I can’t officially post yet because they aren’t finished.</p><p>SPOILERS. Read at your own risk.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Paladin Danse/Female Sole Survivor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>All Roads Lead to You [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1245707</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Someday Now</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>My life is a chaotic mess and since I can’t seem to finish whole pieces at the moment, I will post smaller pieces here. I wouldn’t have ever considered this but some of y’all still check in with me for updates and dammit, you deserve updates.</p><p>Check the chapter notes for relevant context.</p><p>xoxo</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Post-BB, post CW, Danse seeks identity in the one constant he has.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Dedicated to Hannah because I promised more than a snippet but then my week got so crazy so I’m so sorry, here u go &lt;3</p><p>It’s a cliffhanger so be prepared.</p><p>{Someday Now-Local Natives}</p><p>xoxo</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Nora pushed herself back against the wall. It was hard to pinpoint which parts of her ached; it would be quicker to list which parts of her <em> weren’t </em>in pain. Her feet were sore, her boots practically falling apart, held to her calves only by a thinning shoelace. They’d seen much better days and so had Nora. She let her eyes shut and felt the dull pulse of her muscles as they basked in the rest she was offering.</p><p>Before she could ask or get it herself, Danse was handing her a water. She broke the seal on it and drank half, leaving him the rest.</p><p>He didn’t drink it right away. She watched him take care of his rifle first—good old Righteous Authority, returned to him as one of the few remnants of Brotherhood he had left. Precious because of what it signified, who it had spilled blood for. Second in priority only to Nora, and when it had been maintained, cleaned to his standards, only then did he focus on his own needs.</p><p>Danse downed the rest of the water. She tossed him something, and he caught it reflexively. Looking at the package, he chuckled.</p><p>The sound made her smirk. She doubted she loved anything a fraction as much as his laughter, rare as it was. “Thought you might appreciate that.”</p><p>“Stashing things, Adler?”</p><p>“I have to ration them. It’s for your own good, Danse.”</p><p>There was a playful tilt to his mouth as he opened the package. “I’m perfectly capable of self-discipline.”</p><p>“Usually,” she corrected. She would give him that, but he had the worst sweet tooth she’d ever known, bar none.</p><p>Danse grumbled at her around his first bite of snack cake. Nora smiled to herself and looked out of the broken window. In the distance, Diamond City was visible, the only light on the horizon.</p><p>“I’ve been considering something,” Danse started nervously, hands locked around his knees. His gaze was intent and focused and his cheeks were on fire. “Admittedly, it’s been on my mind for a while now and I’d like to discuss it with you.”</p><p>Nora fidgeted but nodded her agreement. “Yeah, sure. What is it?”</p><p>“What do you... consider us?”</p><p>“Really, <em> really </em> good friends,” she cracked dryly.</p><p>Unamused and still completely serious, Danse sighed. “Nora.”</p><p>“You’re my partner. Danse, I couldn’t do anything without you. Hell, I wouldn’t even <em> be here </em>without you.”</p><p>He rubbed at the stubble along his jaw. Really, that was a generous term for it; it was <em> stubble </em> a few days ago. Now, it was a full-on beard. “I... appreciate that. But that’s not what I mean.”</p><p>“What <em> do </em> you mean?”</p><p>“How do you introduce me? If I’m honest, I’m not even sure I know what to call you.”</p><p>Oh. The labels talk.</p><p>It felt a bit strange to be doing this at their age, with their history. As if they needed a label to tell them what they were to each other. She didn’t, at least, but Danse seemed to be bothered by the lack of defined roles. “I don’t know, Danse. I guess I say you’re my boyfriend.”</p><p>He hummed at that but it sounded dissatisfied.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“All that we’ve been through—after how long we’ve spent together—to call you my ‘girlfriend’ feels juvenile.”</p><p>She shrugged, picking at her jacket sleeve and avoiding his eyes. When she thought about it, she guessed she agreed but it wasn’t like there were better options. “Well, what term do you <em> want </em> to use?”</p><p>Rather than answer immediately, Danse looked off into a corner of the room. That plucked at her nerves. Made her wonder what it was he was getting at.</p><p>“Hey,” she mumbled, watching him contemplate and brood over whatever was bothering him so badly. “What’s this about?”</p><p>“I was wondering how you might feel about… well, marriage.”</p><p>Nora balked. “What, like… for us? Like, you and me getting married or like a hypothetical couple getting married?”</p><p>“I want to do this right this time, Nora. I want to marry you.”</p><p>He had really, completely lost it. She scoffed, standing and turning her back to him to hide the pure shock plastered all over her face.</p><p>“Is the idea really so repulsive to you?”</p><p>The hurt in his voice turned her back around. Her mouth hung open for a while before words would even form in it. “It’s not… <em> repulsive </em> , Danse. It’s just that—people don’t <em> get married </em> anymore. I mean, fuck’s sake, we’re basically common law.”</p><p>“That’s not the same to me.”</p><p>Nora sighed. It was a frustrated sound, something she didn’t mean to let out but <em> what was he thinking? </em> “Why not? Do you want to file our taxes jointly? I mean—Christ, I’m really trying to understand here, Danse. We’re not religious. There’s no government. What does getting <em> married </em> even matter?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. By Any Other Name</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Small, unedited chapter 18 excerpt. Coming soon.</p><p>xoxo</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They found the old man in one of the rooms, lying in bed and hooked up to an IV. He looked frail. Dying. Not what Danse expected of the leader of such an aggressive organization.</p><p></p><div class="">
  <p>The man frowned as he watched the battle from his window. Nora made no move to kill him, the only sign of her intentions the gun firmly in her hand. Surprising to Danse, after how she fought to get there. He had expected another bludgeoning.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Danse positioned himself at the doorway, waiting for the backlash that would surely come.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“This is not how I’d hoped you’d return,” the old man finally said, “though I expected some retaliation.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Danse watched Nora carefully. He’d once been able to measure her so well. Every twitch of her muscles was a tell, and he squinted now, searching her for those minuscule shifts. Her shoulders tightened slightly.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“The others, they warned me. They told me I shouldn’t trust this to you. They said you were too stubborn to be reasoned with, but I suppose I… well. I see now that I was blind.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You shouldn’t’ve fucked with my family,” Nora said evenly. “Taking Shaun—”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I <em>gave</em> you Shaun.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“And then you hold him hostage whenever you need something?!” Nora shouted, raising her pistol in her shaking hand. Danse tensed at the sudden change in atmosphere. “That is so <em>sick</em>! Where is he?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“He doesn’t know you anymore, Nora.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Five fucking seconds before I off you and look for Shaun myself.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His gaze drifted from Nora, behind her, and his eyes fell on Danse. “Ah. M7-97.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The room suddenly went cold, arctic as Danse realized the director was talking to <em>him. </em>Using his goddamned <em>Institute</em> name.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“...or do you no longer recognize your designation?”</p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>What do you guys wanna see? I don’t know what to post here but whatever snippets you want or whatever scenarios/pieces of Danse and Nora’s relationship you’re interested in, ask away. I have so. Much. Written. Just gotta tie it all together and edit.</p><p>Did I mention I have Danse giving Shaun the talk shdjkfkrkt I love him</p><p>xoxo</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Sincerest Form of Flattery</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Danse struggles to accept Shaun as much as he does himself.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The only real context you need here is that post-exile, Danse has become Preston’s go-to guy you train up new Minutemen.</p><p>Deacon’s just looking out for Danse, man. What a good ass friend (‘:</p><p>xoxo</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He wasn’t alone for even five minutes before Deacon walked in and invaded his space.</p><p>“If you’re looking for Nora,” Danse said sharply, refusing to look up from his book out of agitation from Deacon’s frequent disregard for his privacy, “she isn’t here.”</p><p>“Who said I was looking for Nora?” He leaned against the wall just beside the door, nonchalant, a smug smile on his face.</p><p>He was after something. That much, Danse was certain of. “What do you want?”</p><p>“World peace.” He paused. Danse squinted at him, waiting for him to arrive at his point. “Tough crowd.”</p><p>“<em>Deacon</em>.”</p><p>“Look, I get it. You’re not my biggest fan.”</p><p>Danse pinched the bridge of his nose, dropping the book in his hands to his lap grudgingly. It wasn’t that he hated Deacon. His lying was intolerable, but he was almost used to it now. Now, it was—well, Danse didn’t know <em>what</em> it was, but something about the spy still made him uncomfortable, made him suspicious of his intentions.</p><p>Deacon jerked his head toward the door. “Kid’s outside. He’s playing with the dog. Way he’s yelling, I think he’s trying to train him—Minuteman style.”</p><p>Danse shifted in his seat, anger morphing suddenly into a cold shock. “What are you implying?”</p><p>“Easy. Just think you should know how much he looks up to you, that’s all.”</p><p>It took a moment for the words to sink in and make any sense. Danse had expected a distraction, for Deacon to tease him or waste his time, all the usual antics. Not...<em>this</em>. He felt his jaw drop slightly, breath catching like he’d been struck square in the chest. He’d known things had changed once Shaun returned with no memories, a veritable blank slate. Danse had watched him piece his past together and wondered if he had been that same way once, when he’d lost all recollection of the Institute.</p><p>Shaun had taken it all remarkably well for a child, he assumed, but most of those conversations had happened with Nora behind closed doors. She’d made it clear he could join them and that she’d understand if he couldn’t. She knew he didn’t really know Shaun like she had and that he had no reason beyond morbid curiosity to be part of the process of explaining what had happened before his amnesia to the ten year old.</p><p>In the end, he’d decided he couldn’t stomach it. And Shaun had unfortunately taken that to mean he was uninterested in the boy.</p><p>Danse wasn’t happy with the outcome, but he felt it was for the best. He was no more a father than he was a soldier of the Brotherhood. Especially not now that he knew full well he was incapable of ever having biological children, that he had never even had parents himself.</p><p>“I...” he started, clearing his throat and trying to formulate a coherent response, choked up as he was because despite it all, something in him yearned for family. It wasn’t the same feeling he’d felt when he’d met Shaun; it was a <em>fear</em>, now. Anxiety over letting him down. “While I... appreciate the sentiment, it’s unwarranted.”</p><p>Deacon smirked, shaking his head. “You don’t get it, do you? You don’t get to pick these things. Nora thinks there’s something cool about you. Shaun sees that.”</p><p>Scoffing, Danse closed the book in his lap. Here Deacon was, insisting he accept admiration he had hardly earned, as if he weren’t the very reason the Institute had had to be destroyed. He’d practically ripped the Commonwealth apart himself. His voice didn’t betray <em>half</em> of the spite he felt. “He’s misguided. Does he even know what I am?”</p><p>“Sure. Nora gave him that talk.” Deacon stopped to scratch at his head, a frown forming on his face. “I’m not saying you gotta coach his soccer team or anything, but you gotta understand—you’re the only person like him he knows.”</p><p>It made sense, he supposed, when Deacon put it that way but that didn’t change anything. It didn’t mean he suddenly felt capable of taking care of Shaun without Nora’s oversight, didn’t mean he was any less of an unknown. Danse glared at his hands, so tired of being angry about things he had no power to change.</p><p>“If you’re with Nora, you get Shaun, too. Package deal. Congratulations! It’s a boy.”</p><p>Standing, Danse moved to slide the book back onto the dusty shelf he’d retrieved it from. Truth be told, if he had felt at any point that he could have left, disappeared, and Nora would’ve been okay, he would have. Even now, he wasn’t sure he shouldn’t run, let Nora and Shaun live a life without a grenade in their hands. At best, he was a glaring question mark. At worst, he was a land mine. <em>One misstep</em> would be all it would take to hurt someone close to him and he hated that—being unsure what the hell he was made for. Who he used to be. How he was trained.</p><p>He used to be certain about almost everything. Now, his very foundations were shaken and he couldn’t trust even himself.</p><p>“It’s in Shaun’s best interest to find another role model,” Danse stated. Simple, straightforward, but it surprised him that it <em>hurt</em> to say.</p><p>Synths shouldn’t have families. Shouldn’t have children. Shouldn’t feel sad that they couldn’t have those things.</p><p>Deacon clicked his tongue, pushing away from the wall and starting back towards the door. “I’d hate to be the one to tell him that,” he said, tone strangely sad.</p><p>Watching him leave, Danse sighed but it didn’t relieve the weight in his chest. <em>Guilt</em> was what it was. He wasn’t sure if he should tell Shaun or if he was better off simply placing distance between them both. He asked himself what Nora would want; it was <em>her</em> son, <em>her</em> patchwork family, but if he correctly assumed her response, he wasn’t sure he would agree with her assessment.</p><p>He wasn’t even sure why Deacon had brought this up. <em>Why now?</em> He had no evidence Shaun cared for him beyond their mutual relationship with Nora and he shouldn’t waste time and energy on another one of his elaborate fabrications. But as soon as he left his damned room, he was confronted with Shaun, his small voice drifting down the stone hallway from somewhere in the courtyard.</p><p>“<em>...your aim is too high, soldier.</em>”</p><p>The dog barked, as if in reply.</p><p>“<em>You need to adjust if you want to hit your mark. Again!</em>”</p><p>Another bark. Danse quietly approached an archway and stopped to peer at the scene playing out. He would look, see if he couldn’t witness what Deacon was referring to for himself, and then he would leave.</p><p>Shaun tossed something into the air and Dogmeat tracked it, following its path through the air and jumping up to try and meet it, only to narrowly miss.</p><p>“No, no, no,” Shaun groaned, shaking his head and jogging to retrieve the object. “Too soon, Dogmeat.”</p><p>Dogmeat wagged his tail, tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth in blissful ignorance of what Shaun was trying to teach him.</p><p>Danse stood there and watched for longer than he meant to. He just couldn’t shake the familiarity in the boy’s posture, his words, <em>all of it</em>. It was impossible to ignore who he was imitating, and Danse felt his chest tighten to the point of pain.</p><p>The instant Shaun spotted him, he scrambled to attention, saluting him respectfully. “I’m—I’m sorry. <em>Sir</em>. Mr. Danse.”</p><p>Something about the formality tore at Danse. There was more guilt, mountains of it heaped on top of him so that he could only manage a stiff nod. “Carry on, soldier.”</p><p>Shaun smiled and breathed easier, settling into a relaxed state despite his embarrassment still plastered brightly across his cheeks. Danse watched him play with Dogmeat a few minutes longer, the whole time wondering if he should have encouraged this. If he shouldn’t have just done what he needed to, clarified his relationship to Shaun and not indulged him.</p>
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